In a war torn far future, Sylar looses hope and seeks out his touchstone. Only to find that nothing can stay the same forever...even them. Warnings: violence; graphic imagery; spoilers seasons 1-3. Disclaimer: I don't own heroes, I'm just playing with it.

His
fingers slid along her thighs, feather light, he didn't want to
wake her, she was so much more peaceful this way. The over large
t-shirt she wore slid up at his insistence, when had she started
wearing anything to bed? His hands wavered over her skin, and he
lowered his hovering form until he could feel her breath fanning out
over his lips. It wouldn't take much to lower that extra inch or
two, to press his lips to hers... there was a time when he wouldn't
have hesitated.

There
was a loud snore from the body in the bunk next to hers, Sylar spared
the huge mountain of muscle a glance, he was sleeping restlessly his
gun lay next to him, with a hand curled loosely around it. His eyes
switched to the bunk on the opposite side, his was beneath his
pillow. Sylar closed his eyes briefly before turning back to her, her
eyes were open and she was staring at him coolly, he could see the
debate warring out over her features. She could strike him, there was
every chance she would be fast enough to reach the weapon he knew was
beneath her own pillow. Or she could make a noise, any noise would do
it, a grunt, a scream, even her silent body thrashing would wake the
sleeping marines.

He
smirked down at her and lifted his hands up from their position
around her thighs, holding them out in front as if it would placate
her. Her eyes darted for the barest of seconds to her men; he
did hate the notion, that she was surrounded by nothing less than an
army. It made these visits somewhat hazardous to his health,
particular in the middle of a war zone.

Her
mouth opened and she mouthed soundlessly. 'Leave!'

He
narrowed his eyes, he hated it when she gave him orders, but she was
so used to barking them now, of having fully grown men jump through
hoops for her, that she didn't take his resistance well.

Sylar
shook his head sharply, grinning at the way her hand slid
surreptitiously beneath the thin material she had stuffed under her
head as a pillow, going for her weapon. He flicked out his wrist,
forcing his will upon her, attempting to control her as he had once
done so easily. But she wasn't the same terrified high school
cheerleader anymore, and his mind screamed in agony as she fought
him, until the control snapped, and her arm shot beneath the pillow
withdrawing the automatic pistol so fast that it was pressed against
his forehead before he could even think about preventing it.

"I
said get out!" she snarled. There was a sharp grunt and the large
figures on either side rolled out of the bed, weapons sliding into
hands with practiced ease.

"What
the fuck!" one snarled and the gun against his forehead pressed
more insistently. "Commander, everything in hand?" his terse
voice alerted others, weapons clicked and he felt the scopes line up
against his head.

"Everything's
fine. Mr Gabriel Sylar was just leaving."

"Yes
Ma'am." The grunt to her left snapped, but his weapon didn't
waver. "You are aware that Mr Sylar is floating in mid air above
your bed?"

"It's
a bad habit of his." She snapped.

His
patience wasn't infinite, "I'm not leaving Claire." He
snarled, she might have been able to resist some of his more cerebral
abilities, but he had plenty of others he had been itching to use for
some time now. But there was a small rustle of surprise that went
through the rather small room, that was currently packed full with
well trained, testosterone fuelled marines, that had apparently just
found out their precious Commander's first name.

"Claire's
dead." She hissed and he winced as the gun pressed into his
forehead with more intensity. "Don't you remember... you killed
her!"

"Commander?"
Trigger fingers were brushing impatiently.

"You
won't shoot me Claire-bear." He smirked at the fire that blazed
behind her eyes. "Besides, it wouldn't do you any good, you don't
even know how to kill me; you don't even know how to kill
yourself." The gun went off and he focussed every inch of his
ability on keeping the round out of his cranium, the weapon backfired
and the round exploded in the chamber, taking her hand clean off and
leaving quite a mess. The sound of gunfire from all around dropped
his concentration and he landed with a heavy thud directly over her,
his hands held wide to keep the bullets at bay, so that they hovered
in the air inches from him.

"Stop!"
Claire screeched the order, shoving at his chest her hand reforming
as she used it to deliver a blow to his cheek whilst he was
distracted with the hail of bullets. It snapped his concentration and
the bullets dropped to the floor like metal rain. But her men were
trained well, they stopped as one, fingers positioned, eyes trained
on his head. They'd obliterate him at her command, and he spotted
one or two with weapons that gave him mild concern... energy rounds,
he shuddered they really did make a mess.

"I'm
not here to fight you!" he hissed, lifting his body off her enough
so that he wasn't crushing her still tiny form with his weight.

"Well
that would be a nice surprise Gabriel." Her eyes were hard and her
tone brooked no escape, he wondered if she would really kill him this
time; she certainly had the man power.

"You'd
miss me." He quipped, and for a fraction of a second something
tugged at the corners of her lips, he wouldn't call it a smile, but
it wasn't a grimace either.

"Other
than to molest me, what the hell are you doing here? You've got
fifteen seconds to state your case." She snapped a signal off with
her hands to her waiting grunts and he frowned, he wasn't familiar
with what she'd signed them, apparently he'd been away too long.

It
pained him to open up to her, to come to her like this, but there was
really no option now. "I've been living in Paris." His voice
shook slightly and he locked eyes with hers. "I'd made a life
there." Her eyes narrowed and she simply watched him, he wasn't
going to explain about the family he'd started, about the woman who
had loved him, the son she had given him. About the friends...his
job. The normality of simply being Gabriel again.

"You
survived?" she asked quietly after a moment.

"Of
course." He bit back, and this time she did smirk.

"It's
always a bitch that... I'd have more pity for you Sylar, but then
you wanted this. Wanted to be special!" amusement danced in
her eyes and he fought to control his temper, Claire was a cold
hearted bitch, but he'd known that coming in here.

"So
what do you want... revenge?" Claire crossed her arms, and glared
up at him, not in the least bit concerned that he was still pinning
her to the bed with his lower half.

"Yes."
Rage suffused that one word and she cocked her head observing him.

"Why
come to me?" She asked finally, there was another gesture to her
men and those at the back broke off, only the four surrounding her
bed remained with weapons trained on him... her best. "If you're
looking for someone to blame, I suggest you look up; or down." she
snorted clearly finding something amusing. Rolling her eyes at his
expression she continued. "We did our best to stop that from
happening. Lost a lot of good people."

"I'm
not blaming you." Sylar snarled, feeling that irritation that he
always associated with her, creeping in behind his eyes.

"I
thought I could ignore this. That it would blow over, that I didn't
have to get involved."

"Coward."
She hissed and he slammed his hands down on either side of her head,
there was a click from behind him and a gun pressed between his
shoulder blades. His hands crackled with blue lightening and Claire
looked over his shoulder, the gun withdrew.

"Don't
you dare." He snarled. "I have done my bit. But they never learn,
it's always the same damn thing, one war after another!"

"I
appreciate the sentiment Sylar. But in case you've only just woken
up to the fact, we didn't start this war... they did." Claire was
right of course, and he hated her for that, he was used to being
right, the idea that the former pacifist had known when to get
involved when the killer had retreated rankled.

"I
want to join your team."

Her
bark of laughter sent his whole body rigid and he struggled to hold
onto his abilities, not to simply unleash his fury upon her... not
that it would do any good, but it might have made him feel a little
better.

Claire's
laughter died away, but it had never reached her eyes, she wasn't
amused in the slightest. "Why in hell would I let you within three
feet of me and my team?"

"Because
you're the best; isn't that what they say... Commander?" her
rank perhaps got her attention more than anything else.

"Which
is why there is no place for you Gabriel." She always liked to use
his first name when she wanted her words to have that little extra
sting.

"Bull."
He hissed, leaning closer. "You damn well know I can be of use.
Those... things." He snarled, unable to even say it. "I can hurt
them. This won't be my first war Claire."

Claire
shoved at his chest and he obliged, sliding back off her to kneel up
giving her space. She slid out from beneath him with almost feline
grace, her tiny form sliding between the men; 'her men',
that hadn't relented; she was almost dwarfed by their crouched
figures.

"I
can't use you Sylar." She turned away from him, and he got the
distinct impression he was dismissed.

"Don't
you walk away!" he snarled and unleashed a bolt of electricity into
her back, but her men didn't react and she spun on him, her eyes
blazing, apparently her boys weren't worried about a little
electricity to her.

Claire's
eyes narrowed on him and she placed one hand on her hip, the disdain
twisting her features was quite something. Her blonde hair spilled
down around her shoulders, not her usual style, or so he'd seen
from the images HQ broadcast; in truth he really had left it too long
this time, she was different, even for her and her ever adaptive
personality. But as he observed the more casual attire, the softer
hair, it seemed to him that her squad were on some much needed down
time for now.

"You
don't take orders well Sylar." She finally spelled it out to him,
snapping him from his revere. "Even if I could consider having you
within my sight for more than five seconds every century... which by
the way, I can't." She smirked at him and he felt the cut of her
words solidly, she hadn't always known how to do that, and it
bothered him that she'd only gotten better at it over the years,
whilst he had apparently gotten worse. "You would compromise my
team, you aren't trained... and don't start." Claire raised her
hand. "This isn't like the last war, hell the weapons aren't
even in the same category."

"I
am a weapon!" he roared at her, the bellow of his voice rocking her
back slightly on her feet and she brushed the dust that had blown up
onto her shoulder away casually; as if men attempting to knock her
over with the power of their voice was nothing more than a passing
irritation.

"I
don't trust you."

"Damn
it Claire; give me a chance!" Her irritation showed and she glared
solidly at him.

"That's
Commander!" she barked deliberately and for once he didn't press,
he was fully aware of what she'd done to earn that title and the
undying loyalty of the men with the big guns.

"Find
another team. You want to enlist, do your part. That's great; we
could use all the help we can get. But you do it elsewhere. I don't
want you near me, or my team." Her expression was flat and he
realised she'd shut down on him; he'd get nothing from her. "I'll
place a few calls, tell HQ to expect you, maybe then you can put
your..." she hesitated and a dry smirk pulled at the corners of her
mouth "talents." She settled on. "To good use for once."

"Claire."
He tried one last time, letting her hear the pain in his voice,
reaching for her.

"I
owe you nothing Sylar." She reminded him sharply and he flinched at
the rage in her eyes, he hadn't wanted to see her this way, this
hadn't been his plan for them; once more he cursed himself for
leaving her to her own devices for so long this time. "If I ever
find your hands on me again I'll have you stuffed into a garbage
pod and fired at the sun." His eye twitched, the threat was real
and he felt the air leave him... she meant it this time. Something
snapped in his chest, it felt like heartbreak, Claire had always been
his constant, his touchstone to reality, to time and he had been
hers; however much she'd hated him, she'd always needed him for
that.

The
realisation hit him soundly and he felt fear, true fear for the first
time in centuries. "You don't think we can win."

Claire's
lips pursed into a thin line and she raised her chin defiantly. "We
will."

The lie
reverberated around in his skull, shuddering down his back, and
drawing his wide eyes to her as he watched her hand ruffle the hair
of the closest marine, as they thumped each other in the arms, "Hell
yes we will!" they barked in one form or another, but her eyes were
cold as she met his and he felt his blood chill.

What
was the use of a touchstone if there was no more forever?

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